


What's One More Bad Choice?

by PunkDaisies



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt, Nerrie, Pining, niall/perrie, zayn/perrie - Freeform, zerrie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3584229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkDaisies/pseuds/PunkDaisies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So here he was, standing on a feuding couple's porch with grocery bags full of craft beers and various canned cheeses and feeling ready to peel his skin off."</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's One More Bad Choice?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is. I'm so sorry.  
> Niall goes over to Zayn's. Zerrie argument. Nerrie if you squint.  
> ???????????

Niall's been standing on the porch for the past fifteen minutes. He and Zayn had planned a bit of a lad's night; cold beer, greasy chips and maybe a bit of Fifa. But, so far, Niall can't even bring himself to ring the bloody doorbell, he's not even sure they'd be able to hear it, what with all the shouting coming from inside. They'd been at each other's throats since he got there. Since long before he got there, he'd be willing to bet, considering he'd texted Zayn when he was coming over to ask if he should bring anything special and had gotten no reply. He'd just assumed the boy to be asleep, even snorted out a "fucking lazy wanker" when he had pulled into the Sainsbury's parking lot and still hadn't received a response. So here he was, standing on a feuding couple's porch with grocery bags full of craft beers and various canned cheeses and feeling ready to peel his skin off.

  
You see, Niall doesn't like stress. He doesn't deal well with it at all, gets all sweaty and panicky and replaces all his words with unintelligible stammers. Which is exactly why he's about to turn around and head home. He'll shoot off some royally bullshitted apology text to Zayn about why he had to cancel and maybe curl up in bed with _Ghost_ and all his newly purchased novelty cheese. He flinches when he hears a "well why don't you just fucking leave then?" and the slamming of what sounds like a very heavy door, and then he's all but sprinting back to his car. He doesn't make it halfway down the walk before the door opens and someone calls his name. Well. Call is a bit strong, it's more of a heavy-handed whisper honestly. He takes a deep breath before plastering a smile on his face and spinning around. "Hey Pez," he hopes he sounds nonchalantly jolly even as he notices her swiping at her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater. She flashes him a smile but it's so shallow and broken that he's about to stage a phone call and run off to some fake emergency so that the poor girl can weep in peace. He's surprised to hear that there's no tremor in her voice when she tells him that Zayn's right upstairs in the bedroom and Niall should let him know he's outside. He waits for her to ask how long he’s been outside. She doesn’t. So he nods stiffly before making his way back to where she's standing on the porch, arms wrapped around herself and nose and eyes puffy and red. "I was just thinking of leaving, actually. Maybe come back next week," he betrays his first statement by sitting and putting the bags at his feet. There's a short, sharp laugh as Perrie settles in next to him on the porch swing, "Yeah, so was I." She's tucked her feet up under herself and had begun picking at a loose thread on her sweater. "The leaving, I mean," she clears her throat before continuing, "just without the coming back part." Her voice hitches up at the end, making it sound like a question and she won't meet Niall's eyes, still too focused on the knit unraveling in her hands. They sit in silence for what feels like hours before she finally turns to look at him, eyes shiny and brimming with fresh tears. Niall knows the question before she opens her mouth. "Did you know?" And how is he supposed to answer that? _Oh yeah I did. Just never got around to telling ya. Soz._ or _Nah, didn't know for sure. But kinda expected it._ or _He gets braggy when he's drunk, ya know?_ None of his options seem particularly appealing right now. So he just shrugs, ignores the questions and asks if she’s okay. She takes a slow, shuddering breath and her shoulders sag deeply on the exhale, eyes welling up. Her chin’s tucked against her chest and she’s shaking her head.

  
It is probably, no, it is definitely, an inappropriate time for Niall to be thinking about how beautiful he finds her. How attracted to her he still is. But he can’t help himself. Only manages to feel the slightest twinge of guilt as he savors the warmth of her body against his from where he’s pulled her to his chest when the tears started falling again. She’s soft and sweet, pliant as he rubs her back while she sniffles and whimpers. He murmurs little reassurances to her until she finally stops shaking, and when she turns to look at him, he rubs gentle palms down he cheeks. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before muttering “He doesn’t love me, does he?” She’s chipping at the purple nail polish on her thumb when Niall begins “Pez, look,” that’s as far as he gets before she’s interrupting him. “No. He doesn’t,” she’s shaking her head, little strands falling out of the bun atop she piled them into. “If he did. Like if he really did love me, then. Then he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t hurt me like that. Right. Right?” And Niall doesn’t know how to respond to that. She’s looking up at him with wide, wet eyes, searching for even the tiniest hint of validation. But. Zayn is one of his best mates, been like a brother to him for years. So he should say that she’s wrong. That Zayn really does love her. That he’ll do better by her. But the words get stuck in the flood of anger rising from his stomach because. Because he knows it isn’t right, the way Zayn treats Perrie. So he takes a deep, steadying breath and prays that he isn’t breaking some unspoken band rule when he opens his mouth. “You deserve the best, Perrie. Really. You deserve the world,” the gasp she emits is barely audible, “And you should have someone who can give you everything. Someone who wants to give you everything.” There are a few tense seconds of silence before she laughs shakily and nudges him in the side with her elbow, “Guess I got engaged to the wrong one, huh?” Niall is going to vomit. Perrie furrows her eyebrows at his lack of response, unaware of the bile that’s risen its way past the boulders lodged in his throat. “Sorry,” her cheeks are tinged pink and she’s picking at her nail polish again. “It’s just that. Well. I um. I remember you saying that you liked me. It was an interview on X Factor and uh,” she flushes deeper, “It was a long time ago. And you probably don’t even remember what I’m talking about anyway. Sorry. Again.” “I remember,” he startles himself as much as he does her when he speaks, “Still do like ya, Pezza. You’re hard not to like, I guess.” His laugh feels forced but she’s smiling along so he guesses he’s in the clear. “Anyway…” “How about we…” He smiles when she laughs. Perrie should laugh more, he’d like to make that happen. “Go ahead,” she’s looking at him expectantly. He stands, dusts invisible dirt from his hands before rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I should probably get going. It’s getting late” He can see the exact moment her smile falters. “Oh,” her hands find those fraying threads again, “Well could you give me a lift somewhere. Don’t really wanna stay here tonight.” Niall didn’t expect that, out of the millions of words in the English language, he would be hearing those. “Sure,” his voice cracks, “Where to?”

  
She shrugs, chews on her bottom lip consideringly, “Wherever you’re going, I guess.”


End file.
